


Sonata of Violence

by CavannaRose



Series: Rose Wilson Fics [28]
Category: Batman (Comics), Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics), Terror Titans (Comics)
Genre: Anti-Hero, Assassins & Hitmen, Canon-Typical Violence, Comic Book Violence, Crimes & Criminals, Female Anti-Hero, Gen, Mercenaries, Organized Crime, Vigilantism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-02-16 17:36:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18696148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavannaRose/pseuds/CavannaRose
Summary: Drawn back to Gotham to deal with warring mob-style gangs, Rose will either fight the Bat, or work with him.





	1. Prelude

Rose sat looking over the Ruby Falls, attempting to allow the crashing water to drive the general malaise from her mind. She wasn’t one to sulk and brood. There were other folks out there that had cornered the market on that particular aesthetic, but today she was feeling… off. Nostalgic maybe? Definitely out of sorts. She was glad to be quit of Metropolis, but she had promised a certain someone that she wouldn’t wander too far, or be gone too long. She offered the roaring falls a sardonic half smile. She hadn’t decided if she was going to swing back that way or not, but it was nice to know that someone besides dear old dad was out there thinking about her. It was a nice change.

A buzzing from her pocket broke her quiet reverie, and with a sigh she pulled out the disposable phone she kept for work. As much as she hated following in Slade’s footsteps, she enjoyed mercenary work. She was proud of the skills she’d developed as an assassin. They had different criteria for jobs, of that she was certain. He only took the toughest jobs, she only took those against crooks. Funny how many criminals were willing to hand over their ill-gotten gains to have a Wilson stomp all over their competition. The fact that nine times out of ten she turned around and ruined their days too didn’t seem to phase the worst of them.

Single eye flickering over the text, she mentally groaned. Gotham. No matter how far one traveled, it felt like the domineering gothic cesspit always drew the body back in. Every hero ended up in Gotham City at least once in their career, and once you end up there, you kept being swept back into the dark and dreary territory of the Bat. Personally, she had nothing against the Bat, other than he was an uptight edgelord with a bad habit of blowing through sidekicks like a junkie with an eight ball, but that was no nevermind to her. She wasn’t the sidekick type, and they had some… fundamental moral differences. She knew from experience that villains were better off dead. He seemed to think incarceration, with the revolving door places like Arkham seemed to have, was sufficient.

She read over the scant details again, weighing her options mentally. On one hand, it was a fuck of a lot of money, and she hated Sionis with a fiery passion. The arrogant son of a bitch with his idiotic mask and cult-like followers gave her more than just the wiggins. On the other hand, she hated Rupert Thorne almost as much. Mobsters were a fungal growth on the glut of society. All they brought were crime, suffering, and collateral damage. Rose didn’t have a lot of quibbles, but innocent bystanders getting hurt rubbed her the wrong way. Not to mention Thorne inevitably turned up with his fingers in some of the most depraved transactions that skated along the bottom of Gotham’s scum pit.

The silver-haired assassin chewed at her lip, looking out over the water and thinking. Sionis was bad news. Always had been, always would be. Her contact, bless his twisted and shrivelled facsimile of a heart, had tossed in the information that scuttlebutt suggested Sionis was behind the latest spree of murders in Gotham. Of course, he was trying to manipulate her into taking the job, he got a hefty percentage after all, but she wouldn’t hold that against him. With a sigh she stood, stretching out after the hour she’d spent huddled on her perch amidst the Falls. She was damp, a little chilled, and starting to get irritated. Of course she couldn’t let Sionis go around murdering people. That was definitely contrary to her limited moral structure, but did it have to be for Thorne? Blech. Whatever it was Thorne wanted back, Rose was fairly certain that she’d be keeping it. That much, at least, she was certain of. Fucking gangsters.

At least she wouldn’t have to meet with him. A big shot like him was more than happy to work through third party intermediaries. He probably thought he’d put out the request anonymously. As if you could keep secrets from Kuttler. Idiot. She’d have to take care to avoid the Big Bad Bat, of course. This was definitely veering dangerously close to stepping-on-toes territory. Bats fucking hated when other vigilantes made a mess on his turf, and Rose was planning on making a big old bloody mess. After all, she had a reputation to maintain, even in Gotham. Wilsons always aimed for the biggest payout, and if she took out Sionis, well that payout could disappear her for a good year or more if she wanted.

With practiced ease she leapt across the exposed rocks across the top of the Falls, landing on the far side with relative grace. From there it was a brisk walk to where she’d parked her Yamaha FJR1300. It was a new acquisition, and the main reason why she was going to take this job in the first place. Motorcycles were a hobby more suited to those plusher of pocket than Rose generally found herself, but she couldn’t resist the glaring cry of the chrome and orange curves of the chassis. Unable to resist, she ran her hand over the leather as she approached, before digging through the left pannier to pull out her navy helmet. Her orange helmet was staying elsewhere, a reminder that she had promises to keep. Oddly enough, she didn’t mind that reminder. Yet.

It wasn’t long before she was blazing down a nearly empty highway, the speedometer creeping closer to 150 miles per hour as she sang down the asphalt. With the wind cutting through her leathers and the sun starting to set in the distance, she allowed herself a small smile. The trip was supposed to take about 12 hours, but she was betting she could cut it down to eight if she played her cards right, and Wilsons always played to win.


	2. Introduction

The sun was starting to set as Rose roared across the Vincefinkel Bridge, barely sparing a glance for the Vauxhall Opera Shell as she entered the China Basin District. Out of all of Gotham, this was the part she liked the best. Though she usually bunkered down in Crime Alley, she was feeling the need for some nostalgic comfort. After all, it wasn’t every day a gal planned to go on a murder spree in a city haunted by Bats, clowns, and a veritable zoo of villainy. She smirked to herself, pulling in beside a run-down looking three story building. Out front a sign read ‘Rooms for Rent’ in Khmer. When she entered, a small, elderly woman looked up from the computer where she was working diligently. She called out in Western Cham, and Rose readily answered. Still scowling, though perhaps slightly less ferociously, she beckoned the white-haired assassin forward, switching to English. “Last time you stayed here I had to replace a wall. _A wall_. I won’t have it, not even for the daughter of Sweet Lilli.”

Rose grinned. This was the only place where no one cared who her father was. Sweet Lilli meant something to the Cambodian people, and it warmed her heart. “Come on, Naroeung, I paid to replace the wall, didn’t I? I even pitched in extra to repaint the whole third floor.” Her voice was affectionate, wheedling, as she bargained with the stern old woman. Finally, Naroeung seemed to relent, throwing her hands into the air in exasperation.

“Honestly, child. If you didn’t look just like your mother when you took that tone, I’d be able to say no and have some peace about the place. If you get anything broken this time, I’m making you pay to fix my porch too.” The small woman, though honestly not more than an inch or two shorter than Rose herself, shook a disapproving finger at the mercenary, who was still grinning as she helped herself to a small green candy from the dish on the counter. Naroeung huffed, turning to the computer. “What’s the name on the stolen credit card you’re using this time? Hmm?”

With a grin Rose pulled out the shiny black card, placing it so that the woman could read the name. “Timothy Drake? Little cousin, I swear you plan to give an old woman a heart attack. You keep your sticky fingers to yourself while you’re under my roof, you hear? Timothy Drake…” Dropping back into Cham, Naroeung continued to berate Rose, lamenting on her supposed fall from grace, the loss of the sweet innocent child, and extolling how her mother would be so disappointed to see what she had gotten herself embroiled in. Rose merely accepted it with an ever widening grin, popping another candy in her mouth as the woman ran the card anyway. “There. Now give that poor boy his card back.”

The young woman gave a small little bow. “Yes grandmother. I promise.” With a last cheeky grin she accepted the key to her room, just barely ducking the swat the older lady aimed at the side of her head as she dances out of the way. Blowing the woman a kiss, she headed up the stairs, skipping the fourth and ninth step, they’d creaked last time she had stayed in the boarding house. Several of the rooms she passed on the way to her own were clearly occupied, quiet murmurs of voices or the strains of tinny radio music seeping out from under the doors, but Rose wasn’t worried. Naroeung was extremely particular about who stayed here, and China Basin in general was … less than hospitable to outsiders. Even the Bats rarely had call to come down this way, since the fierce immigrants somehow managed to keep the majority of the criminals out of their territory.

In her rented room, Rose flipped open her burner and dialed up her contact for an update. He detailed that since the robbery from Thorne, things had been a bit quieter. He had a tip that there seemed to be some activity at a used computer store, though, if she wanted to go check it out. With a muttered expletive and a promise to have money sent his way tonight (he meant wired in, she meant dropping it on his windowsill) she hung up and grabbed her paniers, digging through them for the gear she’d need tonight. She stood near the antique vanity, examining her reflection in the warped glass. Bedecked in scalemail, with katanas crossed over her back, knives at wrist and ankle, and pistols at her hip, she looked every inch the daughter of Slade Wilson. With a sneer of disgust, she tied on her mask.

Heading out into the night through the window, left open a quarter inch so she could return the same way later, Rose hit the streets. Prudence suggested she should have caught some shut eye, after all she’d spent over nine hours astride her bike, and hadn’t slept the night before, but she couldn’t rest. Whatever Sionis was up to, she was certain it couldn’t be good, and she needed to end it sooner rather than later. She’d sleep when she was dead. Maybe. Eschewing the bike for now, as much as she loved it, the thing was hardly stealthy, she set out and further into Gotham at a run, crossing Gate Street and heading deeper into the city.

Twenty minutes later she was in Crime Alley, her old stomping grounds. Passing through familiar territory, she took a moment to get her bearings. As much as things changed around here, it all pretty much stayed the same. Oriented, she headed through to the edge of the warehouse district she watched as several well-dressed goons in masks seemed to be loading the oldest computer she’d ever seen into the back of a van. Eyebrow raised, she withdrew one of her katana and simply… walked up to the group. Two of the men were arguing about a floppy something-or-other while the rest struggled with the outdated equipment.

“Evening boys, don’t you think you’re out past your bedtime? Shopping hours are between eleven and seven.” The goon nearest her almost dropped the ancient monitor in his arms, startled eyes widening behind his mask as the four faces turned to take her in. Rose grinned, giving them a little finger wave with her free hand. “Hi, yeah. So… that’s definitely not yours, and I’d be _fascinated_ to hear what purpose your boss could possibly imagine putting that relic to. Can it even go online? Seriously.” The swiftest thinking of the thugs, Rose noted him for later, pulled a gun, the shot ringing out in the air.

Lightning fast, Rose ducked, narrowly avoiding a rather deadly interaction with his munitions, a small laugh escaping her. They always went for the guns. Flowing from the motion, she whirled around, her katana stretched to the side as she arched, neatly clipping the tendons at the back of the man with the monitor’s legs. He crumpled, the glass front of the monitor shattering in a stark counterpart to his howl of pain. Still smiling Rose turned, her free forearm coming up to block a punch thrown by the second man who had been arguing. He was strong, the blow definitely hard enough to bruise, but the assassin just laughed, running her sword across his guts and then kicking him hard enough to drive his body away. The best thing about bad guys who were used to Batman? They never thought you’d go for the killing blow.

While the second minion tried desperately to keep his entrails from becoming extrails, a second shot rang out, the bullet grazing Rose’s cheek as she ducked out of the way. She could feel the burn, the blood hot and dripping across her skin and she paused to wipe it away with the back of her glove. She ended the motion with a jerk of her wrist, dropping the sheathed knife into her hand, and tossed it, almost blindly if not for her precognition, over her shoulder at the shooter. She heard the ‘oof’ of escaped breath, turning to catch him staggering, the blade embedded in his shoulder. That left one, turning to look, she saw he was halfway up the street, an over sized computer tower clutched in his arms. That was… different.

Leaving the gunman to decide whether he wanted to risk bleeding out by removing her knife, she stepped past the whimpering figure, trying to staunch the bleeding coming from his legs as he lay in a pile of broken glass. There were no sounds coming from the man she had gutted anymore. Falling into a run, Rose gave chase to the villain with the stolen computer. Whatever he wanted the archaic tech for, she wasn’t going to let him get away with it. She did, after all, have a job to do. Hopefully one of the goons behind her would still be alive and able to spill the beans, because this fucker was going to die for making her chase him.


	3. Exposition

The Batman had been hunting the same prey as the silver haired assassin, though it would appear a step behind for once. He'd already alerted the GCPD to dispatch a team for the break-in as he leapt from the roof of the electronics shop and grappled rapidly in pursuit of the aggrieved assassin and her would-be victim. The pull of his grapple gun was fortunately faster than the pace of her and the overburdened criminal's legs. He dropped down before the man, extending his leg from his crouched landing in a sweep to take the crook off his feet.

The Dark Knight rose slowly, his cape draping around him and covering parts of the man as he stepped over the fallen False Facer and the discarded computer tower. The white eyes of his cowl narrowed as he focused on the Ravager. "Wilson. I'd ask why you're in my city, but seeing as you just killed that man, I no longer care." he said leaning his head to both sides to crack his neck. The Batman pushed his arms out from beneath his cape, raising his fists as he took a defensive stance several steps from her. "You should surrender now.”

Rose swore to herself as the Dark Knight flapped in to ruin her evening. Having him roll up was not only going to cramp her style, but also make her job so much more difficult than it had to be. She shook her head, her stance casual, as if the legendary Batman wasn’t facing her, fists clenched. She inspected the edge of her katana, using her gloved fingers to wipe the blood from the edge of the blade. “Your city? So possessive. I don’t see your name on it…” Her lips quirked into a snarky smile as her eye drifted over the Wayne building on the horizon. “Well… not all of it anyway. I’m just here tidying up some of the gutter trash, no need to worry your pretty head about it.”

She laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. “You and I both know that I’m not going to surrender. Whatever would father say? The shame might just stop the old man’s heart…” Her sardonic grin widened. “Though, to be fair, if I could guarantee that end, I’d hand my swords over in a second.” She spun the blade in her hand, resettling the grip as she raised her eye to meet the gaze of the big angry vigilante. “Tell you what, you stay out of my way, and I’ll try not to let anyone else accidentally slip and fall onto the very sharp edge I’m carrying around.” Her lips twitched, they both knew she was lying, but then again, her respect for authority had always been a little… lacking.

She took a step back, settling into the calm buzz of the adrenaline roaring through her system. Part of her, the addict that would always live within her, twitched with need. The natural high was great, but she missed the punch of the inhaler. It was sharper than what she was currently experiencing. With another short laugh, she raised the blade so it was horizontal up near her forehead in Ko Gasumi position. “Now, come on Big Bad Bat, try to beat up the tiny little female so you can feel better about running late to stop a crime that is not any concern of your own so I can roll out of here and get back to the real work.”

"You certainly inherited your father's ability to monologue." The Dark Knight replied, his stance not changing through all the various flourishes and actions she took. He wasn't sure if she was stalling, or just living in the moment, but he didn't drop his guard. Not for a Wilson, anyway. He was between her and her next potential victim, so he knew she'd either be making the first move, or deciding it wasn't worth it soon and trying to run. Either way, he had every reason to remain patient and focused. "And every crime in Gotham is my concern."

What was it about this particular crime that was of such concern to her? He took a very quick moment to glance back at the man on the ground behind him, then the computer, before fixing his focus back on her. "Antique electronics seem a little beneath _you_ though."

Rose rolled her eye, some people just couldn’t resist preaching and casting aspersions. “Last time I checked, I wasn’t on your roster, so I don’t think you get to make judgments about what is and is not beneath me. Crime was happening, I stopped it. Now I need to interrogate that mewling worm wriggling at your feet so I can figure out where his boss is. He and I have… business to discuss, though he doesn’t know that yet.” Chewing her bottom lip, she gave the Bat a once over. His gear was pristine, his stance firm. Damn it, did the old man never age? Maybe he was sipping from the same flask as her dear old dad.

She risked a glance over her shoulder, fairly certain that the Bat was too noble to move in when she wasn’t looking. Even if he did, there was enough adrenaline coursing through her veins now she should be able to see him coming. “Of course, if you insist on keeping the runner, I can go back and see if either of his pals survived. I’m starting to think Sionis is shopping at DollarTree for his thugs lately, they burst like tissue paper bags full of rotten tomatoes.” She laughed again, taking a half step backwards, her blade still facing her opponent as she swung her vision back around. “Honestly, the one that made it is practically bled out as is, he’ll hardly notice me tugging at his tendons to wrench some honesty from him. You just gotta turn your back for like three… four minutes tops, and then I’ll be like a ghost. Invisible. No bother at all to you and your precious routines.”


	4. Development

The Batman didn't move when she gave him the opening. "If you feel like dealing with the squad from the GCPD that's already on the way, then go back." He was fairly confident that they'd beat her to the store by now. While he was concerned about the idea of a confrontation between her and the authorities, it would allow him time to secure the runner before making sure she didn't get out of hand again. His fists flexed as he otherwise remained unmoved.

She had answered his unasked question in her boastful response. She was after Black Mask. Batman doubted she would be as easily forthcoming as to why. He had several guesses already forming in his thoughts, but he focused his disciplined mind on the moment. A killer still stood before him, and he wasn't sure just how serious he would need to be about that yet. "Or you can still stand down and turn yourself in. The other alternative would be a failed attempt to go through me to get to him." he said, thrusting a thumb over his shoulder towards the unconscious goon on the ground. "Make the smart choice, Wilson. Put down the sword."

Rose laughed, the harsh sound filling the space between the mercenary and the vigilante. “The GCPD are no concern of mine. There’s not a man on their team that could go toe-to-toe with a Wilson. As for your recommendation that I stand down?” One eye on Batman, she went down on one knee for a second, the corner of her lip twitching up into a smile before she drew the knife from her ankle sheath and threw it at the runner.” With a fluid motion she rose and turned, katana held to one side as she dashed back towards the remains of Black Mask’s little recovery crew. All she needed was a minute, she knew the slimy bastard would sing for her as long as the Dark Knight and his law enforcement minions stayed out of her way long enough.

It didn't take a terrible amount of effort for him to react to the thrown knife. Standing between the would-be assassin and her target, he was able to whip his cape out to knock the blade to the ground. It did however cost him time, and as she ran back towards the shop, he still had to secure the last False Facer for his own questions later. Some creative grapple work with the goon later, and the Dark Knight was rushing through the alley, cape billowing behind him. The GCPD, never quite known for their response times, may or may not have already arrived by the time the Wilson woman reached what was left of the other two criminals. Though the Batman was certainly not far behind her now.

She didn’t want to fight the Bat. She wasn’t afraid of him, and she didn’t think he was nearly the hot shit that he was painted out to be, but she had a feeling that Wonder Boy would be disappointed if she went mano a mano with his old mentor. Giving a shit about people constantly left you with trouble. Life was easier when she could just slit a few throats and move on to the next town. Growling at the sound of sirens in the distance, she ran faster. She was running out of time, and she was letting idle thoughts distract her. That was bad for business, and if she started slipping, Dear Old Dad would show up for some refresher lessons that she would rather not partake in if she had her druthers.

Rose swore, pivoting and heading down a separate alley as she drew closer to the original crime scene. Lights and sirens broke through the darkness of the evening. Sheathing her katana, she climbed up to the nearest roof, she crouched down, looking over the scene. Uniformed bodies swarmed over the trucks and evidence, the soft sounds of voices barely drifting up to her perch, and she swore some more. It had all been going perfectly, until the god damned Batman had shown up and ruined everything. Now her potential sources were all in custody, and that put her at a dead end.

Frowning, she turned her gaze back the way she came. Well, almost at a dead end. The Bat had tagged the runner, and she was fairly confident he’d kept her dagger from silencing the fucker permanently. If he was more focused in stopping Ravager from murdering the rest of the scum, he may have left the man unattended to pursue her. Of course, that would mean he was on her heels, and likely to appear at any moment. She had seconds to decide what her next action would be. What would Slade do? No. She might wear his colours and bear his name, but she would not be him. What would _Tim_ do? She chewed her lip. That wouldn’t work, he was a protégé of the Dark Knight, and with that came avenues that were closed to her.

What would _Rose_ do was the question she should be asking? With a grim set to her jaw, she raced across the roof, leaping to the next one, ducking amidst some old furniture that had been tossed up there and forgotten. She carefully checked her weapons, wishing for once that she had brought something non-lethal. She wouldn’t, couldn’t, kill the Bat. Her… friend would never forgive her. Besides, she didn’t kill good guys, not that that ever brought her any slack from the damn hero types. Even with her enhanced reflexes and strength, she wasn’t sure she could win a fist fight with the bastard. No matter what the propaganda said, size counted, and she was woefully _small._

Drawing her sword again, she shrugged her shoulders. She’d just have to be careful. It wasn’t like the dude didn’t wear body armor of some sort. He’d be fine. Plus, she wasn’t trying to kill him, she just wanted to cajole him into letting her talk to Sionis’ fucking minion. Creeping to the left, she took her position and waited. If she read the Bat right, she wouldn’t have long before he stepped into her ambush.


	5. Recapitulation

The snap-hiss of the Bat’s grappling gun firing echoed against the narrow alley walls. The cable whipped him off the ground and up above the buildings quickly. He dropped down on the roof overlooking the electronics shop with near silence. His eyes darted around the crime scene below. Rose watched, musing on what he might be thinking. The cops seemed fairly casual in their behavior, an indicator they'd assessed the scene and were no longer on alert. It would also confirm that the Ravager had not yet made her presence known, if she was planning to return at all. He would know it was possible that she'd cut her losses and move on to find other targets. No, not targets. He would think of them as victims.

She watched his eyes narrow as he looked down at the remains of the gutted man, slowly being lifted into a body bag for the medical examiner. Rose knew she was always on the edge of good and bad, but after this, her presence in his city would not be tolerated. She’d gotten messy, letter her temper guide her actions. He stepped back from the ledge and began to consider the larger implications of her appearance in Gotham, and where that might lead her next. Though as he began to tap on the projected keypad of his gauntlet, he kept his awareness high and made regular visual checks of the surrounding rooftops.

Rose followed the sweep of his gaze carefully, watching for patterns. The Bat was rigid, controlled. Her father admired that about him. Behaved in much the same way. It was one of the reasons she didn’t like him. One of the reasons she attempted to keep out of his side of Gotham. Giving herself a mental shake, the mercenary tensed, then dropped down from her perch to land behind Gotham’s stern protector. Blade extended, she allowed a small smirk to traipse across her face, one brow raised cockily. She liked fighting, throve on it, if she was honest, and matching blows with the black-caped hero would be fun in its own way.

Pound for pound he could probably beat her, but she had her own resources, and of course, he would want to disable and arrest her. She’d hate to disappoint Drake, but if the other option was prison… well she had killed for less. That wasn’t necessarily where tonight had to go, though. Not where she hoped it would go either. Maybe he wasn’t known for being reasonable, and she certainly wasn’t, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t try. At least this once. If it didn’t work, well, then at least she had a pretty good defense at hand. She cleared her throat, breaking the muted quiet of the rooftop, so distant from the sounds of organized chaos below.

The Batman twisted around at the clearing of her throat. His cape fluttered against the air before settling back at his feet, his arms outstretched with fists raised defensively. At least he wouldn't have to worry about what trouble she was causing.

“Did you come all the way out here to protect your police friends from little old me? That’s sweet.” The smirk spread to a full grin. He’d accused her of enjoying monologuing after all, hadn’t he? She preferred to refer to it as banter, but, since he rarely seemed inclined to participate, it was rather one sided. She snorted. “I’m not a cop killer, old man, and I’m not sure I appreciate the implication. I’m not here to terrorize innocents, just cleaning up some bad dudes while I conduct a little investigation into Sionis. I need info, and you have the last of the False Facers. Give me five minutes alone with him, and I’ll be out of your hair. I’ll even promise not to kill him.” She gave him her best ‘trust me’ face.

The Dark Knight kept his jaw tightly clenched while the Ravager made her offer, such that it was. His eyes narrowed behind the lenses of his cowl, "What specifically do you think that man could tell you?" He took a step closer, but didn't lessen his defenses. If he could get her to open up about what she was trying to learn, it might be helpful in piecing together whatever had been going on with Sionis and the False Facers of late. If she didn't know that outright already. Though he suspected she wouldn't be so forthcoming with her objectives. "Assuming I believe the sincerity of your offer. I need to know what kind of threat Black Mask currently poses to my city, so before I'll even consider allowing what you're suggesting, you will tell me everything."

“Oh you know… just a few little details about some nasty murders. Some high profile thefts that were barely noticed in the wake of all the bodies, and the location of a particular piece of dinosaur technology that the original owner is super keen on getting back. That kind of stuff. Nothing that you need to worry your gloomy head about. I’ll be in and out of Gotham in twenty-four hours, if all goes well. No harm no foul, and not an innocent soul injured in the process.” Her gaze flickered down to the scene below, though she remained aware of where Wayne was at all times. Maybe he was the real hero, but she didn’t trust him. She didn’t trust anyone with a Black or White worldview. Nothing was that straightforward, everything was shades of grey, and as far as she was concerned allowing filth free to commit worse and worse crimes in case maybe they’d recanted their nefarious ways was criminally negligent.

“I know you don’t approve of me or my methods, and I promise you the feeling is so far past mutual we’re practically two scowling faces in the same get-along shirt, but I’ve got the particular set of skills for this job. Your … version of heroics can go bother the crazy folks down ‘round Arkham.” She faked a smile, trying to look placating, though her fingers twitched, longing to wrap around the soft leather of her katana’s samé. “Whaddaya say old man? I’ve worked with your Junior squadlings plenty of times, think maybe you can stop being a bigot for five seconds and let me do my fucking job?”


End file.
